Life

Mild Case of Rejection

Just to be clear, I am an adult. I know the world does NOT revolve around me. However, a couple things this past week did not go the way I would have planned them….

First, I was looking at a business on eBay. (I have existing internet businesses, but I was hoping to find something to get excited about–the other business has slowed) I saw the business listed previously, but now I decided to try and contact the person who listed it. (I am being vague on purpose–it should become clearer as the story unfolds.) After a couple of days, he provided his phone number. And, the following morning, we were given the chance to talk for about 45 minutes. The person I was speaking to had been involved in organized crime. He had served a couple of years in federal prison. (Searching the internet on his name provided a few other colorful stories of his business exploits.) After getting out of prison, he had consulted with various individuals to provide information to the government on how to protect themselves from people with his expertise. And, now that his criminal pursuits are denied him, he has started a business on the “straight and narrow”. Due to age and health issues, he wants to sell this business.

At the end of our phone call, he promised to send a couple of emails–which he did. I think we were fine up to that point. It was my response to his emails that may have sent us the wrong direction. I let him know, “I know how important it is to talk to my spouse (my wife is an attorney) about the possible decision I might make. I did tell her a little bit about your background. She is a little concerned, but she does trust my judgement.” I think the “attorney” information dried up the lines of communication. So, granted this is a rejection, but sometimes I view a rejection as God giving you a “you don’t want to do this” wake up call. So the first minor rejection….

Secondly, I was planning on going on a mission trip with the church. I attended an informational session. I found out most of the trips are done as a twosome (i.e. husband/wife, parent/child or a whole family). Because my family was all tied up this summer, this was not an option for me. The coordinator said we could work something out where I could be included with another group. After a few emails and an additional meeting with a couple I was to be paired with, I was having doubt that spending two weeks in a foreign country with near strangers would be a fulfilling experience. The wife of the potential team seemed to embrace the idea of me being part of their team; unfortunately, her husband did not give a similar vibe.

This past week I sent an email to the coordinator and the husband/wife team. I was making them aware I would not be participating. I was not expecting a “dripping” email response, but I thought they would reply with something. BUT, they didn’t. So, I chose not to go on the mission trip and made it look like it was my inability to commit to the trip. I didn’t say, “I am not going because I really don’t think he wants me there.” Oh, well. The rest of the week was pretty good!

When Neighbors Become Accidentally Nasty

Tree producing the seedsLots of Elm Seeds

We live in a very nice neighborhood. The neighbors on both sides of us also have pools. However, our elm tree strongly favors one side of our yard. And, this is the source of the occasional friction with the those on the other side of the fence…..

The elm seeds are annoying in almost all areas of their life cycle. The seeds that don’t make it into the pool, usually make it into the flower beds. And, they are not content to just end their days there. They insist on germinating and growing into “weeds” with LOTS more below-the-surface-gripping-ability than the standard weed.

Those that find the pool as a landing place, may float for awhile before being caught in the skimmer. Or, if they are floating-adverse, they will hopefully find a resting place on the pool floor where the “auto-vac” can easily suck them up. The second picture is the fruit of the skimmers efforts after a windy night. Once the skimmer gets to full, the pump may shut down because no water is able to penetrate the thick mass of tree “wannabees”.

Please realize this is our tree. It also gives us shade and a way for squirrels to get handy access to the roof of our house. Our neighbors have no such affection. They have to deal with the spring fruit of our trees labor without having to fake any real affection. Although we have never seen them vent their frustration with all of the seeds that visit their pool, we have seen possible actions on their part to “subtlety” let us know they are wishing for a selective case of dutch elm disease to visit the neighborhood. At least twice, we have found the contents of a skimmer basket dumped into our yard. (please reference the above picture to get some idea what this might look like.) Both times there were nice piles of seeds that were just waiting to dry out before being carried into the deep recesses of our garage. (i.e. Under shelving or into some corner that is not easily accessed.)

I am hopeful the trees pruning of a couple of months ago has negated the trees impact on their pool. If not, see if he mentions it the next time I see them out. If he raises the issue, I may mention that dog of theirs that insists on “yapping” at me even though he has known me almost 4 years…. (I guess I am not perfect neighbor either)

When Getting Flipped Off

It has been a few years since I can recall being flipped off. I never really ran in any bad groups while growing up, but sometimes somebody was sufficiently offended they deemed a “flipoff” necessary. (I have no active memory of every having flipped anyone off. Call me very forgetful or a person with some restraint….)

Today, while dropping my son off for his job at Chick-Fil-A, I was driving on the “outer” mall ring. (The Chick-Fil-A is in the food court.) I may have been going a little over the speed limit when I came upon a guy who wanted to pull out onto the “ring”. Fortunately, he stopped and I kept going. As I passed him through his heavily tinted windows, I realized he flipped me off. It is for this reason, I am hoping to determine what the “new” rules for flipping off are:

If someone is about to pull out in front of you and you have the right away but may give them a look like “Really?”, is that worthy of a flip-off?
If the infraction takes place behind a tinted window is it done just to relieve the tension of the driver OR are flip-offs always meant to be seen by the one who incited the flipper?
The driver was male. Do males flip-off more often then women? My guess is “yes”, but it seems both genders get pretty sensitive when their driving skills are questioned.
Is there something worse then a flip-off to release driving frustration? Was the driver REALLY mad at me or was it just the reaction I might give if I touched something hot. My hand pulls away from heat while his brain tells his hand to do the “gesture” when his pride is slightly to moderately bruised.
Do drivers in bigger cars have a greater or lesser tendency to do the gesture? This driver was in a White (Does car color reflect the temperament of the driver?) SUV. Maybe, he just graduated to a larger car and is still trying to go through his hypnosis(biofeedback or psychiatry) sessions to manage his anger and flagrant use of the gesture. Or, maybe he thought a minivan should know its place and stoop to his more awesome ride…

When I make driving errors, I typically am angry with myself. Is our society setup now so that when someone catches you doing something you know is wrong the anger needs to be purged from your system by doing the gesture? I was taught that you are responsible for your own actions. I was taught to be a responsible driver–realizing some of my decisions can effect others. It is a responsibility not for the faint-hearted.

Is it possible the way we drive has been influenced by the selfish decisions many of us make in other parts of our lives? Do many more of us need therapy than realize it? Is the “tool” we call a car only an outward agent to act out our deep feelings of loss and disappointment?

Or, is the story as simple as, “I got flipped off while driving my son to work!”? The long-winded version certainly gave my brain a better workout! 😉

Who I Met At Daughter’s Track Meet

As I walked into the track meet, I look up into the bleachers. There was a gentlemen standing in the stands who made you say, “He must be a professional athlete or something.” And, as it turned out, he was. It was Herschel Walker.

As I sat in the stands and watched, he had numerous kids who sheepishly and respectfully approached him. They asked for autographs, pictures, and hand shakes. As I watched him, I don’t think he seemed annoyed–not even once. Even though his son was participating in the meet, he was very welcoming of anybody who approached him. As I walked up to him with my girls, they were giggling and trying to remember if he won the cooking contest he participated in on Food Network.

I am not great with celebrities or people who have a bit more social standing than myself. And, I do not believe Herschel Walker felt he was any better. As I shook his hand, I said, “Thank you for being a true sports hero.” I only said this because I believe it. If there were more retired athlete like him, maybe it would be a little easier to respect those who participate in his “old” profession. Of course, by today’s standards, he wouldn’t be considered an athlete–he has no tattoos!

Getting My Hair Cut At The UN

Just across the street (not exactly across the street, but once you wind out through our subdivision, it is across the street with a slight “jig” or “jag” thrown in) is our closest Great Clips. Their computer can pull all of us up by our home phone number. They know what attachment to use to get the right length on mine and my sons hair. (The men of the house are on the 6-8 week haircut cycle.) And, they know who cut our hair the last time we were in.

Today, I did have an American cutting my hair. We talked about how good it is in the US. (I did have to mention, “It is not as good as it used to be.”, but people do still want to come.) Next door to us was a hairdresser from Nepal. She has cut my hair a couple of times. I don’t remember much of what she told me, but I remember her telling me during her last visit, she saw the trash piling up in one city. In the work station behind me was the hairdresser from South Korea. She has told me stories at past haircuts about relatives in Korea. (Sometimes it is more answering my questions than telling, but it I don’t want to appear to be to inquisitive.) She doesn’t go back and visit

Lastly, their is a beautician from Afghanistan. And, this one is a tough conversation for me. I have to make sure my questions are not overly judgmental. She has been very open about some of the things she experienced there. Her husband has a back injury, and he is not able to work. It sounds like she still has a hard life, but not as hard as it once was for her family.

My local Great Clips (and practically all of America) is populated by immigrants. Our whens and our wheres differ, but likely our ancestors came to this country within the past couple of hundred years. As legal immigrants, our ancestors worked to become citizens. And, as citizens, they realized the responsibilities associated with this status. For the US (or any country who accepts immigrants) to continue to be the force it has been, the new immigrants (and those who are here but never really legal immigrants) must tolerate/accept ALL responsibilities necessary to maintain a countries greatness while embracing each of the privileges the country provides.

Sexual Preference of Athletes

In the good old days, I could assume most athletes were heterosexual. The athletes took the field for their sport (My favorite sport from the good old days was baseball…the Cincinnati Reds of the 1970s to be particular); they played their best (Despite criticism he has received for some bad decisions, Pete Rose was quite a player. Not very good at reality shows, but a very good player.), and they went home or their hotel after the game. I didn’t have the internet to research every aspect of their lives, so I just assumed they had what was considered a “normal” life. (As an adult, “normal” has a more complicated definition than I used to realize.)

Now, due to political encouragement and what seems at times a “dare” to treat anybody different despite information they have chose to reveal, we are greeted weekly (or more often) by an athlete (or celebrity or politician or someone within our own families) who needs to tell us they are homosexual. Of course, we live in America. People have the right to tell me and/or the world anything they want. They can go to NFL pre-draft events and criticize reporters for asking questions about whether their homosexual admission will affect them in the draft. They can try and guilt anyone in the audience into thinking they are a bad person if they don’t want to shed a tear because this athlete is so brave. The athlete can again dare any NFL team not to consider him because of his off field activities.

Although I have very strong personal feelings about heterosexual or homosexual, I think there are other reasons not to consider this athlete (or any athlete who wants to dare/guilt/challenge a team not to actively seek him. I will list a couple:

An athlete who feels compelled to point out his homosexuality prior to the draft has an agenda. He could use it to negotiate a higher salary. He could use it to “blind” the coaches to possible flaws he may have as a member of the team. I would be very surprised if this particular athlete didn’t reveal this without contacting an attorney first.
Whoever drafts him, won’t be able to cut him. They won’t be cutting a “regular” athlete; they will be cutting a gay athlete. And, even though gay athlete are not in a protected class, the present political climate seems to give them more time with a megaphone than a regular athlete who does not reveal with whom he shares a bed.

What am I saying? When it comes to someone’s sexual preference, I am content being naive. I will let my conservative Midwestern values assign everyone to the “heterosexual” category. If I don’t ask you or if your political office or church membership does not give me a reason to know certain intimate details of your life, I don’t want to know. I am not a stalker. If you are an athlete and promise to always “leave it on the field”, I promise not to do an internet search on you. I will not go to any online resources to intentionally seek your marital status. I will not check which party you make political contributions to. I want to watch a competitor who plays his best even when he knows his team will not be going to the post-season. I assume ALL athlete want this too!

If an athlete wants to tell me ANYTHING that doesn’t pertain to his sport, I absolutely have a right to use that information to define the kind of person I think he is. And, as long as I am given the ability to judge character, I will continue to do it he old fashion way – one observation at a time.

Voting On Primary Day

I haven’t voted on “election day” in quite a few years. Sometimes, there is nothing on the ballot to even vote on. Well, this year being an even numbered year, Texas re-elects everything but President and one of our Senators. (I put myself somewhere between President Obama and Senator Ted Cruz politically. I recognize the two extremes, but it won’t take much work to figure out which one I am closer to.)

As I voted today, I voted early for the first time at the library. (At the other early voting place, they are pretty sedate. Before I even signed in today, I was warned to watch what I say to “these guys”. Normally, I would have rubbed my hands together in anticipation. But, with the need to be so careful what you say when voting, I felt a little paranoid. They realized my apprehension and made jokes about knitting and drinking too much coffee.) As I put my code in and pulled the ballot up, I was all good on the first few candidates. Out of the first 10, I had a cheat sheet covering 8 of them. Once I got past the “big” candidates, my cheat sheet lost its effectiveness. (I tried to do some Google searches to find all of the candidates I would find on my ballot, but the list was not easily available.) When struck with this predicament, I fell back on my most basic rule:

If they are of my political persuasion (its a primary election, so my respective ballot mostly met this description) and I don’t know anything about them, I will vote for the woman or the person with the “non-white” sounding name. (i.e. a minority)

There are too many white men in politics! I believe my party (and the other one as well) would benefit by having a less stereotypical politician. Our demographics show we are becoming less white, so I used my finger to make the voting booth dial more minority friendly. I realize my little voting game has losers. I also realize the whole country wins if my politicians in Washington have more mascots of many different minority groups.

The “Custom” Option

I was a little disappointed as I tried to use the great new Facebook feature. (Google+ plus also provides a choice other than male/female, but it offers fewer additional options.) Previously, I apparently found no need to display my gender. I attempted to get this set up this morning. And, it was a little frustrating!

After choosing “Custom”, I wanted to put something that was not entirely “gender” related, but it was something I wanted others to know about me. (I am definitely a male, but I thought I could use this feature to better describe who I am. That is what most of the “custom” people use it for, right?) I attempted to make my own choice of custom gender, but these are some of the choices I was given:

Who knew there were so many options? I don’t think God made this many. And, if I wanted to choose a gender of “Forgiven” or “Sinner” it is as descriptive as those available options. Is it possible that by obscuring our gender(our similarities) and trying to over-emphasize our differences, we become less of a country “United” and are becoming more of a country “Divided”. Certainly, this is not a political issue, but we know it is…..:-(

Ear Plugs Over The Years

When I was a wee lad (translated, this would mean about 30 years younger), I was never one to crank up my stereo (now kids use Ipods and buds so we really don’t know how much volume they need or use) to find out if certain songs/albums at certain volumes created some special synapse that would forever make me better than others. I mostly avoided those teenage vices and a few others as well. But, in the spirit of avoiding the whole, “I don’t like that.” response when asked to do or go somewhere, I eventually yielded and went to a rock concert. (I went to a few including Rush a couple times and a mix of others as well.) This first real concert was at the Ohio Center in Columbus, Ohio. Nazareth was the opening act and Billy Squier was the headliner. Yes, this is where the ear plugs enter into the picture…..I popped my ear plugs in before things got going. I had heard enough people say how their heads rang and how they couldn’t hear so well for a while. They weren’t stylish ear plugs, but they did the job. (I am quite sure they were less obvious then ear phones worn to keep out noise while mowing the lawn, but I did not have the luxury or desire to criticize the discreteness of the plugs while at the show.) Possibly, it was this effort in my youth that has caused my need for ear plugs in the present.

Now that I am a few years older, ear plugs have a different purpose–making sleep easier. (The exception is the Rush concert I went to recently with my oldest son. I had fluorescent green ear plugs and didn’t care what anyone thought. Cool was not even a consideration. I wanted it to be obvious I was NOT trying to be cool.) I have used them occasionally for sleeping in the past. Over the last couple years, they have become indispensable. Why do I need them for sleeping? Here are my two theories:

Active Brain: I am sure this is a part of old age. I used to be able to lay down and sleep without too much consideration. With adulthood and the possible paranoia that accompanies age(maybe not really paranoia—protective instinct?), night time noises are a springboard for my brain. Some noises are understandable–the family room is on the same floor as our bedroom. If the teenage sons choose to watch TV/Netflix late, the ear plugs help to dull the noise. When it is not the TV, it is a creak in the house OR a dog or police car outside OR rain splattering all over the place. My brain just doesn’t want to let go of wakefulness without having the noise reduced to almost nothing. As witnessed today, the disadvantage to wearing ear plugs is sometimes the wake-up alarm does not clear the necessary noise threshold to be effective.
Roommate: Strictly speaking, I have no idea if my wife snores. By wearing ear plugs, I don’t have to deal with this reality. It allows her to keep her secret. Since my wife doesn’t wear ear plugs, I do sometimes get reports in the morning regarding my own snoring habits. Since it is more manly to snore, I am okay with that.

Bored Daughter and Imagination

My daughter sometimes has the need to be entertained. When her best bud/sister is not around, she has to seek out people to help her get entertained. Today, her father was volunteered to get injured.

I volunteered my hairy left arm. Hairy arms seems to me be more challenging then smooth surfaces. It took a bit of work. (The process involves a tissue as the “wound”. A mixture of Vaseline and red die was spread over the tissue. Once the tissue was moistened with the Vaseline, the wound was formed. Cocoa powder was sprinkled on the wound and worked in to darken the “blood”.) She went after with great enthusiasm. In fact, she enjoyed it so much, she went on to create an injury on her shin.

Walking Down Life's Road With Andy